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Tuesday, December 22, 2015

White Light

by Anna Simpson

Publisher: Three Worlds Press

Genre: Cozy

Emma never dreamed of being a super-sleuth. In her mind, she’s more Scooby Doo than Nancy Drew and when her nosy neighbor, Mrs. Perkins, drags her to an anniversary party to solve a mystery, she rolls her eyes, buys a box of chocolates and hops in the car.

What’s a party without an attack on its host—or more accurately on the host’s grandson, sparking an allergic reaction and moving the party to the hospital waiting room. Suddenly, everyone is a suspect. Emma and Mrs. Perkins, along with Great Aunt Alice (a spirit with boundary issues who keeps stepping into Emma’s body like a new dress and playing matchmaker), dive into an investigation that almost gets Emma killed along with the man they are trying to protect. With so many reasons to kill him and so much to be gained if he died, Emma and Mrs. Perkins must unravel the tenuous ties that point to every member of his family as potential killers.

Even if it means going back to the psych ward, Emma will protect her friend and this innocent man. What good is freedom if it’s haunted with guilt?

To stay free, I perform a ritual every morning. It begins with stepping outside, where dawn streams through the leafy branches of my maple tree, landing, shifting, and dancing on the flowerbeds at my bare feet. A steaming cup of coffee warms my hands. The fragrant air fills my lungs. I sip, leaving the liquid on my tongue to capture a moment of rich goodness.

My name is Emma, and I need to stay grounded and calm. It’s important for my health, so I walk along the fence and let the cool blades of grass tickle my toes and dewdrops cling to my skin. For fun, I kick a ball of dandelion fluff. Little parachutes take flight catching the same breeze moving the leaves above my head. The seeds float up, and up, over the fence to land on Mrs. Perkins’ perfectly tended lawn. Not a dandelion or mat of moss to be seen.

In a half acre of green sits one flowerbed, brimming with Lily of the Valley. I remember the first time I saw them over fifteen years ago. The delicate white bells could only be fairy hats. Today, the round base of cemented river stone is still full of waxy green spear tips. I don’t see fairy hats anymore. No, now I enjoy the effects of nature—its simple perfection.

Mrs. Perkins does it best. In fact, everything around Mrs. Perkins is perfectly cared for—her home, her yard, her car—all perfect.

But not today. A dark line sits between the jamb and the edge of the door.
A few inches of shadow drives my calm away and prickles the long blonde hairs at the nape of my neck. Butterflies in my stomach tell, no scratch that, demand I find my phone and go next door.

Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not a snoop.

Mrs. Perkins, a wiry old bird, did everything herself. I’m not sure if it is because she’s the independent sort or if she has no one else to help her. Either way, when she suggested we watch out for one another, I agreed.

I’m also alone. It doesn’t bother me unless I catch the flu or something. Then I wonder if I will die and no one will notice. It’s a thought, or fear, I can’t shake. Mrs. Perkins’ house has my full attention, and within it sits the same worry. I’ll check on her because she would do the same for me.

I crash into my kitchen, slopping my coffee onto the counter as I slam the mug down. My phone could be anywhere. My gaze travels from the pine tabletop to the gray marble counter. It’s not here. I push through the swinging door to the living area, run my fingertips between the couch and chair cushions, scan the smoked-glass coffee table through my veil of long blonde hair, and sneak a peek under my overturned book on the throw rug. Desperate, I check around the bowl by the door where I toss my keys as I pass the spiral staircase to the loft. Still nothing.

Down the short hallway, I rush to my bedroom. I tug the midnight blue duvet off the bed and shake it. My pulse speeds up as something thuds on to the carpet. I pick up my smartphone and check the battery. Half power.

Excellent. I dash through my front door, across the lawn and unlatch Mrs. Perkins’ white picket gate. Her shiny yellow front door looks as solid as stone. I follow her path to the back wondering if danger lurks.

I gasp as I near the door. It’s like living a moment in a crime drama. I mimic what I have watched on television and bring up my phone to take a picture. Inching forward, heart pounding, I wonder if poor Mrs. Perkins is sprawled out on the bathroom floor, from a stroke, heart attack, or a butcher knife.

Don’t worry, Mrs. Perkins. I’m coming.

I pull my cotton sleeve over my hand and push the door wider. Her kitchen looks untouched as if it’s sterilized or newly installed. Tiles cool my bare feet with each step. Fear scratches at my nerves, “Mrs. Perkins? It’s Emma from next door. Are you okay?”

Silence.

I raise the phone to call for help.

A small sound carries from deeper in the house. I should stop, leave, and make the call.

Following the sound might be dangerous or, worse, plain stupid. And I’m scared. So scared, my breathing is all I hear over the pounding of my heart.
I’d look stupid if I’m wrong. Ravenglass Lake is so small-townsville, and Benny the bully is like no cop I’ve ever met. He would be no help. Worst of all, they’d call me crazy for sure. I slip the phone back into my denim pocket, quietly open her knife drawer, and pull out a meat cleaver. Armed, I creep forward.

Thank goodness Mrs. Perkins likes an open airy room. Evil housebreakers have nowhere to hide in the dining room.

A small thump like a cat landing on carpet makes me jump. But Mrs. Perkins doesn’t have a cat…or carpet—only allergies.

I tighten my grip on the cleaver as I stick my head into the living room. All is quiet and undisturbed. I enter the corridor to the front door. To my right are stairs to the upper floor. Farther ahead is a hall closet and nook where she keeps a desk and a small bookcase. Nothing seems touched.

I glance up at the glittery ceiling, swallow, and pull my phone from my pocket. The sensible thing is to dial 911. I sidestep for the front door, but in my mind’s eye Mrs. Perkins, wiry but frail, shakes her head. Her arm outstretched urging me not to leave.

Thump, I freeze. The noise is right beside me coming from the hall closet.
Without thinking, I open the door and find Mrs. Perkins tied up with duct tape across her lips. Her green eyes, round and unblinking, grow wide, and her usual perfect curls are mussed. I drop the cleaver. It clatters on the floor, and I pull the tape free.

About the Author:

Anna Simpson lives near the Canadian-US border with her family. Even though she’s lived in several places in British Columbia, her free spirit wasn’t able to settle down until she moved back to her hometown.

She is easy to find though, if you know the magic word — emaginette. Do an internet search using it and you’ll see what I mean.

Friday, December 18, 2015

Merry watches, her presence cloaked by the shroud of nightfall. Nothing moves except her eyes which focus on her target. No remorse. No regret. No second guessing the decision to end the lives of the monsters who turned her into a killer.

Jury

The peddlers of death from potent chemicals are found guilty. Punishment for their crimes--death. Appeals denied. Sentencing to commence immediately. The leeches who sucked out the life of addicts with each snort, shot, swallow, and injection will now pay the ultimate price.

Executioner

The idyllic world of Merry Marie Hall, once the loving wife of Harold and mother to their only child, Joshua, is over. Extinguished when Joshua overdosed and Harold died of a heart attack at the funeral. Now Merry hunts down the guilty parties, and one by one, carries out her internal court's orders.

Award-winning and International bestselling author Ashley Fontainne is an avid reader of mostly the classics. Ashley became a fan of the written word in her youth, starting with the Nancy Drew mystery series. Stories that immerse the reader deep into the human psyche and the monsters that lurk within us are her favorite reads.

Her muse for penning the Eviscerating the Snake series was The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas. Ashley's love for this book is what sparked her desire to write her debut novel, Accountable to None, the first book in the trilogy. With a modern setting to the tale, Ashley delves into just what lengths a person is willing to go when they seek personal justice for heinous acts perpetrated upon them. The second novel in the series, Zero Balance. focuses on the cost and reciprocal cycle that obtaining revenge has on the seeker.

For once the cycle starts, where does it end? How far will the tendrils of revenge expand? Adjusting Journal Entries answered that question: far and wide.

Her short thriller entitled Number Seventy-Five, touches upon the sometimes dangerous world of online dating. Number Seventy-Five took home the BRONZE medal in fiction/suspense at the 2013 Readers' Favorite International Book Awards contest and is currently in production for a feature film.

Her paranormal thriller entitled The Lie, won the GOLD medal in the 2013 Illumination Book Awards for fiction/suspense and is also in production for a feature film entitled Foreseen.

Ashley's decided to delve into the paranormal with a Southern Gothic horror/suspense novel, Growl, which released in January of 2015. The suspenseful mystery Empty Shell, released in September of 2014. Ashley will be teaming up with Lillian Hansen (Ashley calls her mom!) to pen a three-part murder mystery/suspense series entitled The Magnolia Series. The first book, Blood Ties, is due out the Summer of 2015.

Monday, December 14, 2015

Today, I have Adam Millard, author of Soul of Dust, sharing his inspiration to this kick@$$ UF just released from Roane Publishing!

Be sure to check out the giveaway!!!

~~~oOo~~~

Back
in 2014, I wrote two urban fantasy novels with strong female protagonists.
These books were entitled Wanderlust
and Rue respectively. At the time, I
was following what I believed to be the standard structure for urban fantasy,
that the majority of the genre’s readers were female and that, in order to sell
a few copies, I had to give them something to relate to, and in making my lead
characters kickass young girls, the books had a much better chance of
succeeding.

You
see, I’d worked my way through The
Morganville Vampires series, the entire Anita
Blake: Vampire Hunter series, and various other collections featuring
strong female characters in lead roles, saw the success of those books, and
decided that I would attempt the same.

Moving
into 2015—where Rue is still doing
the rounds with publishers and agents—I was ready to write another urban
fantasy novel after completing work on several bizarro and horror titles. But I
wanted to try something different. I told myself that there is no generic
formula in literature, regardless of genre; that I could do whatever the hell I
wanted.

I
sat down to write Soul of Dust intent
on creating a deeply-flawed male protagonist, an anti-hero, of sorts, but a guy
with a purpose. This guy wouldn’t be particularly handsome or good with women,
but he would have a job to do, so long as the pay was right.

Jack
Bridge is a centuries-old semi-immortal mage who just happens to also be a
private investigator. He has, in the past, almost drunk himself to death, which
takes some doing if you’re semi-immortal. He’s antisocial, doesn’t play well
with others, and his wand—Phoenix, due to the rare feather at its core—does
most of the talking. In the city, he is the go-to guy when creatures from
Elsewhere slip through into our world, and he’s damn good at his job.

I
wanted to give this poor sonofabitch as many flaws as possible, to make him
almost impossible to get along with. I don’t know what it is but I am
inexplicably drawn to profoundly damaged characters. I like my heroes and
heroines with a side order of asshole or sass. I want them to convince me, as a
reader or writer, that they are something other than what they seem. Jack
Bridge is such a character—one of my favourites so far, and there have been a
lot over the years—and it’s his bitterness and sardonicism which makes him so
much fun to write.

In
writing Soul of Dust, I also wanted
to explore a new beast, a creature which doesn’t get as much exposure as, say,
vampires and zombies, which are currently ubiquitous. I began to research the
aswang—a Philippine werewolf, of sorts, which devours unborn fetuses in order
to survive—and thought it was far more interesting than taking the easy route:
opting for some overused trope.

Am
I inspired enough to write more Jack Bridge novels in the future? I wouldn’t
bet against it.

Life as a private investigator is tough, but it’s even worse when you’re a semi-immortal wizard private investigator whose tolerance for humans grows thinner by the day. Just when he thinks things can’t get worse, in she walks.

Kate West, beautiful and complex in equal measure, with a problem only Jack can solve. Daemons, magic, voodoo, and vamps; it’s all very real, and Jack Bridge is the last line of defense against the creatures of Elsewhere.

Adam Millard is the author of twenty novels, ten novellas, and more than a hundred short stories, which can be found in various collections and anthologies. Probably best known for his post-apocalyptic fiction, Adam also writes fantasy/horror for children. He created the character Peter Crombie, Teenage Zombie just so he had something decent to read to his son at bedtime. Adam also writes Bizarro fiction for several publishers, who enjoy his tales of flesh-eating clown-beetles and rabies-infected derrieres so much that they keep printing them. His "Dead" series has recently been the filling in a Stephen King/Bram Stoker sandwich on Amazon's bestsellers chart. Adam writes and edits for UK horror website This Is Horror, whose columnists include BC Furtney, Simon Bestwick and Simon Marshall-Jones.

Adam lives with his beautiful wife, Zoe-Ray, and their wonderful son, Phoenix Justice. There are also chickens, rabbits and cats, but the less said about that the better.

a Rafflecopter giveawayOpen only to those who can legally enter, receive and use an Amazon.com Gift Code. No purchase necessary, but you must be 18 or older to enter. The winner will be chosen by rafflecopter, and announced on the widget. Winner well be notified by emailed and have 48 hours to respond or a new winner will be chosen. The number of entries received determines the odds of winning. Giveaway was organized by Roane Publishing's marketing department.

Life as a private investigator is tough, but it’s even worse when you’re a semi-immortal wizard private investigator whose tolerance for humans grows thinner by the day. Just when he thinks things can’t get worse, in she walks.

Kate West, beautiful and complex in equal measure, with a problem only Jack can solve. Daemons, magic, voodoo, and vamps; it’s all very real, and Jack Bridge is the last line of defense against the creatures of Elsewhere.

Adam Millard is the author of twenty novels, ten novellas, and more than a hundred short stories, which can be found in various collections and anthologies. Probably best known for his post-apocalyptic fiction, Adam also writes fantasy/horror for children. He created the character Peter Crombie, Teenage Zombie just so he had something decent to read to his son at bedtime. Adam also writes Bizarro fiction for several publishers, who enjoy his tales of flesh-eating clown-beetles and rabies-infected derrieres so much that they keep printing them. His "Dead" series has recently been the filling in a Stephen King/Bram Stoker sandwich on Amazon's bestsellers chart. Adam writes and edits for UK horror website This Is Horror, whose columnists include BC Furtney, Simon Bestwick and Simon Marshall-Jones.

Adam lives with his beautiful wife, Zoe-Ray, and their wonderful son, Phoenix Justice. There are also chickens, rabbits and cats, but the less said about that the better.

a Rafflecopter giveawayOpen only to those who can legally enter, receive and use an Amazon.com Gift Code. No purchase necessary, but you must be 18 or older to enter. The winner will be chosen by rafflecopter, and announced on the widget. Winner well be notified by emailed and have 48 hours to respond or a new winner will be chosen. The number of entries received determines the odds of winning. Giveaway was organized by Roane Publishing's marketing department.

Thursday, December 3, 2015

Nothing like getting a littler personal so peeps can get to know ME, not just the author.

So. How 'bout some pics of best memories!

Sitting on Grandma T's basement steps for our annual Thanksgiving get together!! Notice all the sweaters...she made one / makes one for every single one of her grandchildren AND great grandchildren. Top left is good ol' me with the big cheesy grin & green button up.

Taking my cousin for a ride on dear old Trixie, the pony I didn't treat nearly as good as I should have. God rest her soul...

She stepped on me more than once, threw me a few times, and even fell on top of me. Thank God for tractor tire ruts! Saved me from a broken back for sure.

~~~oOo~~~

That's all I've got for now!

Any great memories of those old family gatherings? Ever have a horse fall on you??